The Selection in the Hunger Games

Leaving District 11 - Chapter 4

The train had come. I was leaving District 11. Mom pulled me into a hug, her body shaking.

"You've always been fast. Use that to your advantage," Mom whispered, not letting her veneer crack just yet.

I nodded, too emotional to speak. "May," I croaked, turning to my mini me. Though we were three years apart, she was practically my twin. I was leaving her behind. Gerad said something to make me laugh and lastly, Aspen. He looked tired, bags creeping under his eyes.

"Mer," Aspen said, pulling me desperately close to him. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, Mer. I'm so sorry. I-"

"I can handle myself," I shot back gently but he still looked pained. I forced him to look at me, holding his chin. "You couldn't have stopped this." We embraced each other again, all of our old feelings rising to the surface again. The first time he had asked me out, the touch of his hand. He was so familiar. He was a part of me.

He kissed me passionately one last time, causing me to blush. That kiss was everything we were. I stepped on the train, too afraid of what I would do if I looked back.

I had never been on a train before. It was beautiful. It had bright red velvet seats, hardwood flooring, and best of all, a dessert buffet. I went there first, in need to distract of myself. I grabbed sweets absentmindedly when I head a good natured voice to the side of me.

"You like sweets, huh?" I looked up to see the male District 11 tribute, Carter Woodwork. He had a wide lopsided smile on his face and an energy you just wanted to be around. He was wearing a simple checkered button up and dress pants. Since we were from the same district, that was probably his best outfit.

"Yes, I do. How about you?"

"I do actually," he said, smile widening. We sat across from each other in a booth, discussing our favorite snacks. We then broached the topics of our families, skipping all of the most recent events. They were too sad.

"Well, Ms. Singer, it's getting late," Carter broached.

"Yes." I got up to leave but had to tell him something first. "Thank you for not being a jerk. I thought we would be fighting already."

"Not going to happen. That is unless, you like to fight."

"It really depends on the person." We shared a laugh before retiring to our quarters and trying our hardest not to think of the deaths to come.